The Divine Dew
Thou art the Flower with petals still unclosed;
I gaze upon Thy beauty undefiled.
Thou art the Rose of Sharon long foretold,
Still in Thy glorious bud, Thou heavenly Child!
Thy dearest Mother's arms, so pure and white,
Form for Thee now a royal cradle throne;
Thy morning sun is Mary's bosom bright,
Thy sunlit dew her virginal milk, my Own!
Ah, little Brother, shielded safe from harms,
In Thy deep eyes Thy future clear I see,
Soon Thou wilt leave for us Thy Mother's arms;
E'en now to suffer, Love is urging Thee.
And round Thy very Cross, Thou fading Flower,
Still clings the fragrance of Thy cradle throne;
I recognize the pearls of Thy first hour:
This Blood drew life from Mary's milk, my Own.
Those pearly dews on all our altars rest;
The angels fain would slake their thirst thereby,
Offering to God these words, forever blest:
"Behold the Lamb," St John's adoring cry.
Yes, see the Word, made Bread for famished men,
The Eternal Priest, the Lamb on altar throne!
Since God's own Son is Mary's Son, all, then,
This Bread drew life from Mary's milk, my Own!
On love divine, on joy, on glory's light,
The seraphs feast with rapture ever new;
I, a frail child, in the ciborium bright
See but a milk white Host, like pearly dew.
And since 'tis milk that suits with childhood most,
And Thou art Love Itself upon Thy throne,
So, tender Love, in my white daily Host
I see Thy Mother's virginal milk, my Own!
(St Therese, Poems)
Those pearly dews on all our altars rest;
The angels fain would slake their thirst thereby,
Offering to God these words, forever blest:
"Behold the Lamb," St John's adoring cry.
Yes, see the Word, made Bread for famished men,
The Eternal Priest, the Lamb on altar throne!
Since God's own Son is Mary's Son, all, then,
This Bread drew life from Mary's milk, my Own!
On love divine, on joy, on glory's light,
The seraphs feast with rapture ever new;
I, a frail child, in the ciborium bright
See but a milk white Host, like pearly dew.
And since 'tis milk that suits with childhood most,
And Thou art Love Itself upon Thy throne,
So, tender Love, in my white daily Host
I see Thy Mother's virginal milk, my Own!
(St Therese, Poems)
credit: 'A Moment with Mary'
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